


Recovery

by rudbeckia



Series: candyfloss marshmallow fluff [9]
Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Fluff, Hand Feeding, M/M, Sickfic, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, not now boner
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-17
Updated: 2018-08-17
Packaged: 2019-06-28 21:40:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,209
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15715602
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rudbeckia/pseuds/rudbeckia
Summary: Hux is sick. When he passes out on the bridge, the medidroid diagnoses exhaustion and stress with a side order of borderline malnutrition.Ren decides to play nurse.From the prompt: from https://dark-hearted-dead-princess.tumblr.com/How about Hux gets really sick, but hides it and doesnt tell anyone so that he can stay focused on doing his job. One day while on the bridge or another public area he just blacks out and Kylo starts to worry cause hux isn't responding to anything, and when he finally come to, Kylo is the one to take care of him, because gosh darnit I want some fluffy kyluxMe too, me too.





	Recovery

Despite feeling as if he’d tossed and turned all night, Hux struggles to wake with his alarm. He makes himself sit up before his heavy eyelids fall closed again and pushes himself to stand on unsteady legs. He staggers the few steps to his ‘fresher and regards his sweat-plastered hair and sallow face for a full minute, blinks and shakes himself, then sets the sanisteam for a cool shower.

When he emerges, there is tea waiting for him on a tray on his bedside cabinet and a fresh uniform laid out. By the door, a petty officer waits at parade rest in case he needs anything else.  
“Thank you, Rathbo. You may go.”  
His own voice sounds as if it’s coming from under water and his ears ring. Hux perches on the edge of the bed until the unreal feeling subsides then sips hot tea. There’s a dull ache just below his ribcage as the liquid enters his stomach and he screws his eyes closed. Just for a second or two.  
“Sir? Are you unwell? Should I fetch a medi—”  
Hux snaps back into the moment. “Don’t be ridiculous, officer. I said you may go.”  
There’s the sound of a smart salute, the hiss of the door pneumatics, and the room is empty.

Dressing takes longer than it should. Hux skips breakfast, telling himself that there simply isn’t time if he is to perform a bridge inspection then chair a command briefing. The tea has soothed his stomach ache. He returns to the ‘fresher to slick back his hair. The reflection that stares back looks gaunt with hollow cheeks, a greyish pallor and dark shadows under its eyes. Hux forces a smile and his reflection grimaces back.  
“All right,” he announces to his own face. “Let’s get on with it, shall we?”

The command officers’ accommodation decks are close to the command hub of the ship yet the short march from his suite to the bridge takes all the energy Hux has and the unreal feeling returns. Sweat trickles down his neck and his undershirt clings damp and clammy to his back. He pauses to blot perspiration from his forehead and cheeks before walking onto the bridge. He takes in the sight of Kylo Ren standing at the forward viewport, turning to greet him with a nod, and the bridge crew at attention awaiting his approval. Hux blinks and salutes his crew. As his hand reaches his forehead and his heels snap together, the sense of being disconnected builds, the ringing in his ears gets louder and his head swims.

He closes his eyes. Just until the moment passes.

***

He’s aware of his head pounding in time with the thrum of the engines, and then of the darkness and the heat. His mouth tastes foul. There’s a familiar scent in the air but he can’t quite identify what it is. Something’s tangling his legs and he kicks.  
“Wait!”  
Like the smell of the air, he knows the voice but can’t quite place it. His legs are freed and a welcome breeze wafts across his skin. Hux realises with embarrassment that he is nude and he does not know where he is. A fresh sheet lands on him and a cool hand touches his forehead.  
“You passed out. Take it easy. You came round after a couple of minutes but you’ve been pretty out of it for a while.”  
Hux groans and swallows. The voice laughs.  
“Lights twenty percent. Here.”  
As the lights come on, an arm supports Hux’s shoulders and helps him to sit. He opens his eyes for a second and sees a large hand clasping a recovery fluid pouch with the straw facing him.  
“Drink this.”  
Hux leans forward to pinch the straw between his dry lips. The fluid is chilled and tastes faintly sweet, and it is gone in seconds. The voice laughs again and Hux is lowered back to the bed.  
“Can you lie on your side? I’ll get you another pouch once you prove that _that_ one isn’t coming up again.”  
Hux turns to lie as directed and opens his eyes. The light intensifies the pounding of his headache. “What the kriff happened?”  
“Ah, you’re really awake this time.” The owner of the voice sinks into view, kneeling on the floor in front of Hux’s face.  
“Ren. What are you doing here?”  
“You’re in my quarters. In my bed. You passed out on the bridge. Peavey insisted on calling a medic and demanded to have you declared unfit for command, but I was able to persuade everyone present that nothing happened. I brought you here to recover. You’ve been drifting in and out of sleep for a few hours.”  
“I’m in your chambers?”  
“Yes. Nobody will dare look for you here.”  
Hux closes his eyes again. Of course the voice belongs to Kylo Ren and the room smells of him. In an odd way it’s comforting, as if he hasn’t the energy to be repelled.  
“I’ll be a laughing stock,” Hux says.  
“No,” Ren replies. “The medidroid diagnosed exhaustion and stress. But don’t worry. I had all that wiped from your file.”  
“Can I have tea and something for my headache?” Hux asks. Ren leaves then reappears with another recovery pouch and a sachet containing a single dose of analgesic.  
“No tea. It contains a stimulant that will make your headache worse.”  
“Well. That’s just perfect.” Hux sits up, bunching the sheet around himself and fighting his spinning head, and washes the painkiller down with the recovery drink. He grimaces as he detects the taste of salts this time. “I am quite well, Ren. I need a sanisteam. I feel disgusting. Where is my uniform? I should be on the bridge.”  
“No.” Ren presses his lips together and shakes his head once. “I had Captain Opan clear your schedule. You have nowhere else to be for the next day and a half. Officially, you are assisting me with matters above the security clearance of anyone who asks. General,” Ren frowns. “When did you last eat or sleep?”

Ren takes Hux’s silence as a kind of answer. He walks into his living room and Hux hears him speak to someone. When Ren returns, he opens a cabinet and pulls out a set of dark grey training clothes similar to the outfit he is wearing. “If you can stand, I will help you with the sanisteam. You can wear these for now. Your uniform was soiled. Your valet took it for cleaning.”  
Hux frowns as he tries to recall. “Petty officer... Rathbo. He knows where I am?”  
“Yes, so does Opan. And both are aware that should anyone else find out they will be spaced together, hugging in terror, from the same airlock while we watch and wave.”  
Hux’s lips twitch up at the corners. He pushes himself to his feet, tries to pull the sheet with him for modesty but gives up and steps clear of it, reasoning that it was likely Ren who undressed him and put him in bed in the first place. He takes a step but stumbles. Hux has landed on the floor enough times to know to relax rather than tense for the landing, but the hard floor doesn’t hit him and he doesn’t feel the breath pushed from his lungs by the expected impact. Instead he’s caught by what feels like thickened, spongy air and Ren lifts him back to his feet, hauling him upright by the armpits.  
“I can walk,” Hux says sharply.  
“Really?” replies Ren. “Want me to let go?”  
Ren steadies Hux and steps back, arms out ready to catch him. Hux shifts his weight and his knees threaten to buckle beneath him. “No,” he says. “Help me to the ‘fresher.”  
Ren hooks his arm around Hux’s waist and takes him to the door of the sanisteam chamber. “Wait,” he says, choosing the settings. Ren puts Hux’s hand on the tiled wall for balance. “Can you stand?”  
Hux nods and Ren lets go so that he can remove his own clothing.  
“You... you’re coming in with me?” Hux asks, eyebrows raised.  
“I don’t want you to fall,” explains Ren with a shrug. “You’re very weak right now.”  
Hux takes a sharp breath in and glares at Ren. “I am not weak,” he says. “I am temporarily incapacitated.”

Water hisses from the jets. Ren allows a few seconds for the temperature to reach a comfortable warmth then steps in, helping Hux to get in beside him. Hux gasps as the water hits his skin then closes his eyes and tips his head back. Ren guides Hux to put his arms around his neck and Hux holds on to steady himself.  
“This is a most unusual situation,” Hux says over Ren’s shoulder. “Can you imagine the cantina gossip if it were known that I’d got into the shower with you like this?” Ren reaches for the wash dispenser. Hux feels hands in his hair, massaging his scalp with scented foam. He groans when he realises how his body is reacting to Ren’s touch. “Ignore that,” he says as his cock partly fills out and brushes Ren’s thigh. “It’s not you. It’s this ridiculous situation.”  
There’s a click as Ren uses the dispenser again and soon Hux feels large, warm hands spreading lather over his shoulders and back. He resists the temptation to rest his forehead on Ren’s shoulder, but he wishes he could bite back the involuntary noise he makes when Ren’s hands drift lower.

“Ren.”  
“What?”  
“Your hands are on my arse.”  
“I know.”  
“You’re... It’s having an unfortunate effect on me.”  
“You said ignore it. I’m ignoring it. Turn round.” Ren helps Hux to turn then slides his soapy hands up Hux’s stomach and chest. Hux sways back then jerks forward. Ren catches him and huffs softly. “As you can tell, I have a similar but more pronounced affliction. Ignore it. It’s not you, it’s this ridiculous situation. Turn round again.”  
Hux turns, mindful to stand a little to the side. Ren strokes Hux’s hair and smiles, cupping Hux’s cheek with one hand. For the briefest second Hux thinks he might be unable to resist leaning in and kissing the insufferable man. For the briefest second Hux closes his eyes and concentrates on the feeling of Ren’s skin against his own.

”We’re done here.”

Ren reaches for the controls and the water cools fast enough that Hux stifles a shriek, but it works. He feels more alert and his embarrassment wanes as his unexpected arousal eases. Ren leads him back into the main area of the ‘fresher and helps him towel off and put on sweats. They go into Ren’s living room, Hux with an arm thrown around Ren’s neck and Ren’s arm holding him steady around the waist. Petty Officer Rathbo is waiting with a box in his hands. Hux glares at him, but Ren settles Hux onto the sofa, takes the box and roots through it, thanks the young officer and dismisses him.  
“You should keep that one. He’s resourceful,” Ren says.  
“And he has leverage material, thanks to you,” Hux replies.  
“You don’t trust him? All the more reason to keep him close.”  
Hux scowls. Ren is smirking at him. “Is that what you’re doing?” he asks. “Keeping me close?”  
Ren ignores the question and empties the box out. Hux stares.  
“Is that... is that real?” Ren nods. “All of it?” Ren nods again.  
“You have not slept properly or eaten proper food for days. Sit there. Doze if you want. I will be busy for a while.”

Hux decides to watch. Ren opens the cover of the small cooking unit that all the larger quarters have and takes out a huge, deeply curved pan. He picks over the fresh-looking leafy vegetables and the herbs, holds up a bulbous root as if either weighing it in his hand or wondering what it is, picks at the skin of a small, red fruit, sucks his finger then makes an _ooh!_ sound and smiles, and checks the texture of the flour. Hux watches Ren peel and chop and slice and soon the room is full of the warm, spicy smell of fried meat and vegetables. Ren chars each of the flatbreads he’s made on an open flame then brings the whole stack and the pan of meat and vegetables over to the low table in front of Hux.  
“Ah. Fine dining.” Hux indicates the bare table.  
“You eat this with your hands,” replies Ren. “Like this.” Ren slides a flatbread onto his splayed fingers. He spreads a thin layer of the meat and vegetable mix onto half of it and folds twice. He offers it to Hux, lifting it up as far as Hux’s chin. Hux leans forwards and takes a bite, sits back and covers his mouth with his fingers to catch an escaped morsel. The food is warm and spicy and better than anything he’s eaten for months.  
“It’s rather unusual,” he says. “What is this dish?”  
Ren shrugs, smiles and takes a bite. “Sometimes you have to make the best of whatever you can get your hands on, and sometimes it’s best not to ask.”  
Ren holds the pocket of spiced meat up for Hux to take another bite then shoves the last bit into his mouth and makes another. With Ren alternately offering and eating, they finish four before Hux sits back and declares that he‘s full. Ren finishes the next two on his own then sits back shoulder to shoulder with Hux. Hux feels the steady press of Ren’s upper arm against his own. With anyone else he would move away, but there’s something about Ren’s attitude today that feels like an invitation. He closes his eyes.

When he wakes, there’s the soft glow and quiet dialogue of a holovid playing. He’s still on the sofa beside Ren. His feet are tucked up under him, his head is nestled into Ren’s shoulder and Ren has an arm around his back. He moves to ease the pre-cramp tingle in his right foot and feels Ren’s breathing pause. Hux shifts his foot and flexes it to restore blood flow, and relaxes again. Ren’s breathing resumes and Hux smiles.  
“I know you’re awake,” Ren says. “Are you hungry again yet?”  
Hux sits upright too fast. He greys out, recovers and watches the holovid for a few seconds. “No. Maybe?”  
“Synthsust?”  
“Ugh. No. I’m sick of that protein slurry.”  
“Jogan fruit pastry roll?”  
“You’re kriffing kidding me! You better have some now you’ve mentioned it or you’re going out the airlock with Opan and Rathbo.”  
Ren laughs and eases himself up from the sofa. He comes back a few minutes later with a sealed tin and two bitter, steaming insulated cups.  
“Opan brought this just after you fell asleep. Said he had to trade all his sanisteam credits for it.” Ren opens the tin. Inside lies a layer of dense pastry, spread with a swirl of purple jam and rolled up tight. Hux salivates just looking at it. “I hope you don’t mind but I said he could use yours for the next five days.”  
“You WHAT?”  
Ren holds out a slice of the sweet treat, a bite-sized crescent already missing. “Worth it,” he mumbles.  
“Worth it for you, since it’s my sanisteam he’s using and not yours!”  
“Eat!”  
Hux takes a bite, chews and closes his eyes as he hums in pleasure.  
“Opan deserves my sanisteam and a promotion. Well then, Ren. Looks like you avoided being spaced this time. Is that tea?”

Pastry eaten, tea drunk and holo watched, Hux rests his head on the back of Ren’s sofa and sighs. He looks at the ceiling and says, “thank you.”  
“More!”  
Hux turns his gaze to Ren. Ren’s reclining into the corner of the sofa and grinning. He smiles back.  
“Very well. Thank you, Supreme Leader Ren, for taking care of me today. I feel much better and I will impose on you no longer. Rathbo can assist me back to my own chambers and—“  
“No.” Ren shakes his head. “You’ll stay here tonight. Twenty-five hour observation. The medidroid I wiped was quite clear on that matter.” Hux bites his lip and frowns. Ren sighs. “You are not getting any choice. I say you will stay. Do I need to restrain you or can you see sense?”  
Hux stops worrying at his lip. “I suppose I will stay. You have a guest room?”  
“No. You will sleep in my bed—“  
“Oh I don’t wish to displace—“  
“—with me.”  
Hux is silent. He stares at Ren for a few seconds then blinks. “I snore terribly.”  
Ren laughs. “You don’t. I’ve listened to you sleep.”  
Hux raises his eyebrows. “I’m going to pretend that’s not at all creepy.”  
“It was a medical necessity.”  
“A medidroid could have done it.”  
Now it’s Ren who is silent for a few seconds. When he speaks, his voice is carefully neutral. “Would you rather I had left your care to medbay?”  
Hux huffs and shakes his head. “No. No, Ren, I appreciate all you have done for me today. I only wonder why, when you could so easily have had me removed from command.”  
“You... you don’t know?” Ren shakes his head. “Of course you don’t know.”  
“Know what, Ren?”

Ren sits upright and takes Hux’s hand. “If you are removed from command, who replaces you?” Hux frowns but doesn’t answer. “Whatever. Irrelevant. It would be someone who is not you. I know you. We’ve worked together for five years. Not easily, but we fit. We know each other and accommodate each other. I know you think the Force is mystical nonsense. I hope to show you the truth Snoke hid from you. If you let me. And I know you act like a—”  
Hux waits. Ren is pink-faced and silent.  
“Like a what, Ren?”  
Ren sucks his lower lip and swallows. “Like a man who thinks he needs power, needs a hold over people to force them to obey. Hux, your people _like_ you. Respect you. Opan and Rathbo did what I asked primarily because it was for you. The First Order is yours. Army. Fleet. Supreme Leader. All yours. And you’re blind to it.”  
Hux stares, mouth dropping open, trying to process what Ren has told him.  
“What about the old imperials? Peavey?”  
Ren shakes his head. “The younger officers make fun of them. You are their idol, Armitage.”  
Hearing Ren use that name unlocks something in Hux. A feeling he almost always buries. “You said, _’ Army. Fleet. Supreme Leader. All yours.’_ What did you mean, Ren?”  
“I meant,” says Ren, “that the army is under your command. The fleet is under your command. And I... I am open to a closer relationship with you. If you desire it.”  
Hux looks at Ren, searching for any trace of humour or capriciousness in his face. He finds only serious thoughtfulness. “Well then.” Hux pushes himself to his feet and takes a couple of steps, pleased that his joints do not buckle from fatigue this time. “I suppose you have clean bedding? I seem to remember perspiring profusely on your last set and trampling it onto the floor.”


End file.
